


Summer Teeth

by pinn



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinn/pseuds/pinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to what certain fucktards named Gerard might say, Frank is totally capable of taking care of other people. It's just that the opportunity doesn't arise that often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Pique for forcing me to flesh it out, Jess for making me put an ending, and Mouse for all the re-reads. Title is taken from the Wilco song.

After two weeks on Warped, Frank realizes that the only people who really enjoy Warped are masochists. This tour was made for people who enjoy sweating off half their body weight before noon, burning their feet on asphalt because their shoes have melted, and getting second-degree sunburns.

Frank focuses on staying cool, wearing as little clothing as possible, and making it to the bitter end.

The show in Phoenix is the hottest by far, 115 degrees in the shade and no breeze. Frank heads to the bus as soon as they're done performing. He's on the floor of the front lounge, his handheld fan directly over his face, trying to work up the energy to take his pants off when the bus door opens. Frank rolls his head to the side and feels the air ruffle his hair as he watches Bob trudge up the steps.

"Hey," Frank says.

Bob sits down on the couch across from Frank and grunts.

Frank puts the fan down and props himself up on one elbow. "So hey, Mikey's off with Pete, and Ray and Gee are hanging out with TBS. You feel like a quickie blowjob?"

"Nah. I think I'm just going to take a nap." Bob stands up.

Frank stares at him openmouthed. In all the time they've been doing whatever it is they're doing, Bob has never once turned down a blowjob. Frank narrows his eyes and looks closely at Bob as he walks by him. Bob's his usual shade of pale, maybe a little whiter than usual, and there's sweat pouring down his face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Bob waves a hand as he staggers down the hall. "Tired. Legs hurt."

Frank stares after him. After a moment, he slides his other arm back and forth across the carpet until his hand hits his phone. He fumbles it open and hits 9. It rings twice before Brian picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Bob's acting weird." Frank peers in the direction the bunks, but the hallway's too dark for him to see anything. Brian doesn't reply, Frank says, "Well?"

"Well what, Frank? Bob's a weird motherfucker. I'm going to need a little bit more information before I can tell you if you need to worry."

"He just came back to the bus and he's all sweaty and pale. Then he said his legs hurt and he wanted to take a nap." Frank rubs his chin and decides to leave the bit about the blowjob out.

Brian's silent and Frank hears the clicking of keys in the background before he speaks again. "Let me guess, he's wearing jeans and a black shirt?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm sure you assholes aren't even trying to drink water or Gatorade."

"The water tent's gross," Frank complains. "I heard someone got the shits from it. I don't need that. And the good Gatorade is always gone by 9 am."

"Manage a band," Brian mutters to himself, "it'll be great. You'll hear awesome music, tour the world and maybe make a difference. Of course, you'll also be stuck with a bunch of dumbasses that can't take care of themselves."

"Anyways," Frank says loudly. He's heard this rant before and experience has taught him it's best to stop it before it starts. "What do you think's going on with Bob?"

"Is he having seizures?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Frank retorts. "And no."

"I'm trying to narrow down the possibilities. Since he's not having seizures or in a coma, I think he's probably got heat exhaustion."

"Oh," Frank says stupidly.

"Yeah. Are Ray or Gerard around?" Brian asks.

"No. Why?"

"Someone needs to take care of Bob and make sure he doesn't get actually get heatstroke."

"Hey! I can do it," Frank says, tightening his grip on the phone.

"Frank," Brian says, in his 'stop dicking me around' voice. Frank swears he hears that voice in his sleep some nights.

"No, c'mon. I'm fucking the guy, aren't I? I think I can get him a bottle of water."

Contrary to what certain fucktards named Gerard might say, Frank is totally capable of taking care of other people. It's just that the opportunity doesn't arise that often.

Brian exhales. "Fine. Get him some water, but don't let him drink it all at once. He'll just puke it back up. Try putting a cold towel on his forehead, too. Basically cool him off."

Frank nods his head, even though Brian can't see him. "I can totally do that."

"All right, call me later."

Frank flips his phone shut, sits up and slaps his palms against his legs. Water's the first priority. For a second, he thinks about getting some from the bathroom sink, but that water always tastes metallic and rotten. Frank pushes himself off the floor and walks into the kitchenette. There's cigarette butts and empty candy wrappers all over the counter. Frank flicks a wrapper aside and grimaces.

"What a fucking disaster," he mutters.

There's no water in the cupboards and none in their fridge either. "Shit," Frank swears. He's going to have to go on a search mission.

He goes back to Bob's bunk and shakes Bob's shoulder gently. "Bob, hey, Bob. I'm going to go find some water for you."

Bob cracks an eye open. "'Kay."

Frank puts the back of his hand on Bob's forehead, just like Frank's mom used to do for him. Bob's clammy, but he's still sweating a lot. Frank doesn't know the symptoms of heat exhaustion, but he's pretty sure this isn't good. "I'll be back soon," he promises.

It's almost 5 pm. Frank knows for certain the water tent has been packed up already. Instead, he heads in the direction of Fall Out Boy's bus. Thanks to Andy, their bus is usually pretty well-stocked. He's barely gone three buses when someone tackles him from behind.

"Ow," Frank grunts. He spits out some grass and rolls on to his back to find Gabe leaning over him.

"Frank fucking Iero, what the fuck are you doing?"

Gabe sticks out a hand and pulls Frank up.

"Hey, Gabe." Frank brushes himself off. "How's it going?"

"You wanna go get high?" Gabe grins. From the looks of Gabe's pupils, he's been hotboxing all day.

Frank sighs and shakes his head. "No thanks, man. Listen, do you have any water? We're all out and Bob's not feeling so good."

"I think Bill grabbed a few extra from the water tent this morning, but it's going to cost you."

"Are you shitting me?" Frank reminds himself that he's known Gabe since they were punks at Rutgers and, as such, punching him really wouldn't be cool. "You're not even in Bill's fucking band."

"I am too. I provide the weed and moral support," Gabe chides. "Look, what do you say to the standard price, plus 20% interest?"

Frank might not be a math genius, but considering that Bill got the water for free, Frank's pretty sure that 20% of zero is still zero. "Sure."

"Awesome. I'll go get the water and draw up an IOU." Gabe bounds on to the bus. Frank shakes his head. He's tempted to call Ricky and tell him his brother's a douche, but Frank suspects that Ricky wouldn't be all that surprised.

Gabe leaps back off the bus a couple of minutes later and throws three bottles at Frank. "There you go, son. And sign here."

He holds out a scrap of a napkin which says IOU. Frank scrawls _fuck you_ and hands it back to Gabe.

"Thanks man." Frank takes off running for their bus before Gabe figures it out.

"Anytime!" Gabe calls after him. "My offer stands if you're bored later."

The other guys are still gone when Frank gets back to the bus. He lines the water up on the floor next Bob's bunk, then climbs into his own bunk. He digs through his bag until he finds a shirt that looks like it could pass for clean. Frank takes it in the bathroom, throws it in the sink and turns on the cold water, letting it run for a while until the shirt's good and wet. After wringing it out just enough so it's not dripping, Frank heads back to Bob's bunk and pulls the curtain back.

He sits on the edge of the bunk and says, "Wake up, Bob."

Bob's eyelids flutter open, and Frank puts the wet shirt on his forehead. Bob jerks in surprise and flails his arms. His left arm catches Frank on the side of the head and Frank thumps down to the floor.

"Fuck!" Frank rubs his head.

"Jesus Christ, Frank." Bob leans over, the shirt falling into his lap, and stares glassy-eyed at Frank. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm trying to cool you down, asshole. Brian thinks you've got heat exhaustion."

Bob leans sideways against the bunk wall. "Oh."

Frank gets to his feet, moves back to the bed and checks Bob's forehead again. It's dry even though the shirt was soaked. Frank grimaces and grabs a bottle of water. He checks to make sure it hasn't been tampered and then passes it to Bob.

"Take a couple of sips. Don't drink the whole thing or you'll get sick."

Bob nods and swallows a little bit before he passes the bottle back to Frank.

"My head is killing me," Bob says weakly.

"That's what happens when you dress like you're expecting a snowstorm in the middle of July." Frank takes the shirt from Bob's lap and wraps it around his neck. "This should help."

"Cold," Bob whines. He shifts it around on his neck, but leaves it there, and then he curls against the wall. Frank scoots a little further on the bunk and tries to get comfortable but there's just not enough room. Finally, he huffs and stands up.

"Come on," he holds his hand out to Bob, "let's go into the lounge."

Bob looks at Frank blearily. "Why?"

"There's more room plus we can watch TV or something." Frank hands Bob the water and shoos him into the back. "Just sit back there while I grab some stuff."

Bob shuffles away and Frank runs back into the front to grab his fan. On his way back past the bunks, he leans down and grabs the other two water bottles. In the lounge, Bob's sprawled on the couch, shirt still wrapped around his neck. Frank sets the fan on the table and aims it directly at Bob and then he lines up the water bottles on the floor within arm's reach.

And those assholes think he can't take care of anyone.

One of Frank's nature documentaries is sitting on top of the TV. Frank sticks it in the DVD player and presses play. When he turns back around to Bob, a thought occurs to him. "Shit. Do you want to watch this? We can watch whatever you want."

"It's fine," Bob nods. "I like this one."

Frank stands over Bob and runs through a mental checklist. Water? Check. Cool towel and fan? Check. Entertainment? Check. He's pretty good at this taking care of Bob thing.

He's just about to ask Bob what else he needs when Bob grabs Frank's wrist and pulls him down.

"Christ, Frank, stop hovering. You're like a fucking mosquito."

"Oof," Frank says as he lands on top of Bob. He wriggles around a little until he's comfortable, squashed between Bob and the arm of the couch.

"Drink some water," he reminds Bob.

The DVD is about giant squids, and it's one of Frank's favorites, but he's tired from playing and taking care of Bob. He looks over at Bob, who's passed out and snoring quietly, and decides that they're probably past the worst of it. Frank can definitely afford to rest his eyes and listen to the documentary.

When he opens his eyes again, Bob's sitting up, talking quietly on the phone.

"Evening, Sleeping Beauty," Bob says when he sees that Frank's awake. "What? No, I'm not going to give him the phone."

"Who is it?" Frank mouths as he points to the phone.

"Brian," Bob says. "No, Frank was asking who I was talking to. Why do you want to talk to him?"

Frank holds out his hand and sighs. "Give me the phone."

Bob passes it over and Frank says, "Yo, Schechter."

"I told you take care of him, not take a nap," Brian says.

"I did take care of him. And I also took a nap. I was multi-tasking."

Bob interjects, "I can take care of myself."

"Tell him that if he could take care of himself, he wouldn't have gotten heat exhaustion," Brian retorts.

"You can tell him that yourself," Frank snaps. Before Brian can say anything else, Frank says, "Look, he's fine. Stop being a mother hen and go get laid or something."

Frank snaps the phone shut and turns it off. He hands it back to Bob and closes his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Bob grumbles.

"Good. Don't pull that shit again. It freaked me out."

"Okay, Brian," Bob mocks.

Frank aims for the general direction of Bob's head and smacks him. "Fuck you. How long were we asleep?"

"I don't know, couple of hours?"

They don't speak for a few minutes and Frank's drifting back to sleep when he feels Bob's toes poking his leg.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for taking care of me," Bob says softly.

Frank replies, "You're welcome."

"So," Bob says, "you mentioned something about a blowjob earlier."

Frank opens his eyes and stares at Bob disbelievingly. "Are you serious? You almost had heatstroke."

Bob rubs his head sheepishly. "Yeah, but I had a nap and drank two bottles of water. I'm feeling pretty good."

"Ugh, fine," Frank pushes himself up. "Let's go."

Bob makes a face. "I don't want to put you out or anything."

"It was a limited time offer, honestly. But since I was such a great nurse and you were an okay patient, I think I can make an exception." Frank unzips Bob's pants and is working on tugging them down when there's a knock on the lounge door.

"What?" Frank shouts.

Ray pokes his head around the door, scrunches up his face when he sees where Frank is, and asks, "Do either of you know why Gabe's outside the bus, yelling something about Frankie and an IOU?"

"Oh shit," Frank giggles. He looks at Bob and says, "I'll give you a blowjob but you're going to have to do me a favor first."

"What did you do?" Bob sighs.

"I did it for you. We didn't have any water on the bus and I ran into Gabe when I was looking for some. He gave me water for an IOU." Frank gestures to the bottles. "20% interest."

"Seriously?" Ray asks. "What an ass."

Frank turns around and says, "I almost clocked the motherfucker." He turns back to Bob. "So anyways, I wrote fuck you instead of my name on the napkin. And I think he just figured it out."

"For fuck's sake." Bob stands and zips up his pants. He grabs the remaining bottle of water and brushes past Ray.

"Bob," Frank calls after him, "what are you going to do?"

"I'm giving him his water back."

"I've got to see this," Ray snorts and follows Bob.

Frank drops his head then he stands up and heads to the front. Mikey, Gerard and Ray are all staring out the window at Gabe.

Bob gets to the door, opens it and yells, "Hey, Saporta! Here's your water."

He pitches it at Gabe, and it hits Gabe square in the chest. Gabe staggers backwards and the guys all laugh.

"Holy shit," Mikey gasps. "Bob's got good aim."

"I heard they're starting a softball team this summer," Gerard says.

"I'm not playing softball." Bob storms back up the steps, and grabs Frank on his way back to the lounge. Over his shoulder, he says, "And stay out of the lounge for awhile."

Not only does Frank finally get his pants off but Bob also gives him a blowjob as thanks for all of Frank's hard work. Who knew taking care of someone could be so rewarding?

* * *


End file.
